You Are Not Alone
by Liete
Summary: -US/UK- 'He immediately knew why he was drawn to it, though he tried very hard to deny it to himself at first. The song made him think of England.'


**You Are Not Alone  
**

**By: Liete**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Hetalia or any of the characters portrayed.**

* * *

America leafed through the albums and singles, trying to decide what to buy to join the already considerable collection of CDs in his car. He picked out a CD, briefly skimming the track listing, and then replaced it in the rack to pick out another one. He continued this pattern until he pulled out a CD that made him stop short.

It was a single and he already owned the album it came from, but he examined it anyway. He immediately knew why he was drawn to it, though he tried very hard to deny it to himself at first. The song made him think of England.

He briefly thought of everything he and England had gone through—and _not_ gone through—over the last several decades and it all came down to one thing.

He put the CD back and shook his head. It wasn't worth it.

* * *

England settled himself with a cup of tea and a freshly baked scone, taking a moment to enjoy both before he reached for the mail he'd left on the table. As usual there was nothing of particular importance, not until he reached a small packet with the return address marked to "Alfred F. Jones" in the United States. Then he choked on his tea and had to compose himself before he could bring himself to open it.

A cassette tape fell out of the packet after England carefully cut it open. He examined it for a moment, immediately recognizing the song. A short letter was also in the packet and England sat back with it, sipping at his tea as he read America's messy scrawl.

"Hey,

It'll sound really stupid, but I saw this when I was looking for more music and I thought of you. I mean…yeah, I thought of you. No point in hiding it. So just listen to it, all right? You can take it any way you want, even if it's to think of how corny I'm being. Or you don't have to take it as anything and just enjoy the music. Either way I guess I'll see you at the next meeting.

By the way, I wasn't sure if you even had a CD player yet, so that's why it's a tape. You'll probably either roll your eyes at that or be really confused."

England did roll his eyes and scoff. He may not have owned a CD player, but he was well aware of what a CD was. Regardless, he stood up with the tape to take it to the drawing room where his modest music collection was kept. He'd heard the song before, but he'd never really _listened_ to it.

He listened this time, however—listened and folded his arms in contemplation as the meaning and _America's _meaning came through. In the end, it all boiled down to one simple thought: America was an idiot.

He walked with brisk steps over to his phone, quickly trying to remember what time it was in the States, but he stopped himself before he could pick up the receiver. He shook his head and backed away. He returned to the cassette played and stopped the tape. He pulled it out and shoved it in a drawer to be forgotten.

* * *

America wiped at his forehead as he leaned against the rake, examining the pile of leaves and the leaves yet to be raked. He'd been working through the morning and decided he deserved a break for lunch before his finished the raking and started the task of bagging the leaves.

He made himself a sandwich, feeling too lazy to make anything else, and flopped onto one of the couches in the living room. He took a bite of the sandwich and leaned back, closing his eyes.

It had been a couple months since he'd sent the tape to England and he'd yet to get a response. He'd decided in the end that no response said far more than any angry words could and had decided it was time to truly give up. It had been far too long, after all.

The sound of the doorbell made him open his eyes, making him wonder if he'd forgotten any appointments or meetings. He sprang to his feet and quickly checked his appearance in one of the hallway mirrors as he sprinted to the door. Rather than a government official, it was England standing on his doorstep. He was scowling deeper than America had ever seen and was clutching a suitcase in one hand. America stared at him in shock before he managed to remove his tongue from the roof of his mouth enough to speak.

"Uh…hey! England, what are you doing here? Wait, I know. You're pissed about the tape and wanted to tell me off in person, right? Look, I'm sorry, but I really did mean it and I wasn't trying to an asshole or anything, so don't—"

"America, belt up and let me in. It was hard enough to get this week off without you wasting time."

Rather than wait for a response, England pushed his way inside. America stood still, staring blankly at the spot where England had just been standing. He finally turned around to see England already making himself comfortable.

He smiled, backing into the house as he closed the door.

* * *

**A/N: While I had a specific year and song in mind for this fic, you can fill it in with whatever you want. :) ETA: Since people are curious, the year is 1995 and the song is the title: "You Are Not Alone".  
**


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